CSI: Hogsmeade
by Lovely Rita Girl
Summary: A Harry Potter/CSI crossover fic, in which there is trouble at Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade, as Dervish has been rudely murdered over a mysterious and vicious creature that had been hidden in the back room and stolen away in the night.
1. Chapter 1

**CSI: Hogsmeade Episode 1: But what's in the Back Room?**

**Author:** Lovely Rita Girl

**Summary:** The first installment of this Harry Potter/CSI crossover fic, in which there is trouble at Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade, as Dervish has been rudely murdered over a mysterious and vicious creature that had been hidden in the back room and stolen away in the night.

**Legality:** I do not own anything Harry Potter or CSI related. I am simply borrowing the universes to tell a story.

**Author's Notes:** This has been quite the interesting creative experiment, and here you have my crossover of Harry Potter and CSI (the original Las Vegas cast). I have tried to keep everything as cannon as I could, considering that it is a combination of two different universes. I hope you enjoy!

Prologue

Richard Dervish II of the Dervish and Banges Shop was in the process of locking up the store. The money had been moved to the safe, the window dancers had been charmed to stillness, the floor swept, and the wall beside the book case closed. All of these actions were very familiar to Richard, as he did them every night. Every other night, he would charm the feather duster into dancing across the frames of the enlarged photographs of intricate mechanical innards that hung high on the blue grey walls of the main room, but tonight was not that night. Everything was asleep and tidy, and so, Richard Dervish was prepared to gather his coats and head for the glass door that looked out onto High Street.

There was a rattle from behind the back wall. Everything had been so quiet that Richard questioned whether it had been his imagination playing a game with him or not.

There was a crash from behind the back wall. Richard Dervish II of Dervish and Banges then knew something was amiss and set down his coats, flicked out his wand, and pulled the red book entitled _Mysterious Passageways and How to Repair and Reoperate them _back from the bookshelf to open the wall and expose the hidden dark hallway.

"Hello?" Richard called apprehensively into the black. He tried to keep his tone curt, in order to show that he most definitely meant business, but the lump of fear in his throat prevented him from doing so properly.

His question was responded by nothingness at first, and then hands slapping his face, pushing him down, and dragging him to the center of the floor. The arms and bodies those hands belonged to took Richard's wand from him before he had a chance to use it, and fluttered about the room knocking over and throwing anything and everything they could find to move. They gathered together and pulled Richard up by the lapels of his suit. Up, up they pulled him and hung him to sway on the chandelier above the cashier counter, dangling only by poor Richard's starched suit collar.

Richard tried calling to them and yelling at them to stop, but his pleas only seemed to make them more energetic, more destructive; and so they sang to themselves as they found index drawers to throw, pulling the cards out and reading them for only a second before allowing them to drop like unorganized feathers to the floor.

Then the hands rocked the chandelier, just to watch Richard squirm. They giggled with glee at his fear, as they ripped the framed pictures from the wall and threw various Sneakoscopes about the room, excited to see the colored smoke billow from the little glass balls upon eruption.

Richard could feel his collar ripping, but the hands kept tearing away at the shop, too distracted to hear him cry. The chandelier lurched as it began to rip from the ceiling. Richard dangled and rocked dangerously, causing the chandelier to jerk further from the ceiling and his collar to continue ripping, until the final thread snapped, and Richard rocked hard and was sent pummeling head-first into the glass display cabinet below, shattering the protective shell.

The hands and bodies and eyes saw what had been done and froze from their frenzy for just a moment before fleeing through the front door, leaving it open in their wake, and the shop to fill with the night's cold. Richard tried to call out to them for help, but a meager, soft "hey!" was all he could seem to whisper before everything went dark, blanketed by the warm blood trickling down Richard's face.

It wasn't long before Richard Dervish II expired in the shattered glass display cabinet of the Dervish and Banges Shop.

William Banges II of the Dervish and Banges Shop was walking briskly down High Street in the early hours of the morning before the sleepy town of Hogsmeade could awake so he may begin his opening rituals in the store that he and his close friend operated and ran together. Upon approaching the front door of the shop with his key in hand, he noted that the handle was not where it normally was. No, in fact, it was inside the shop with the door. This was odd, as Richard Dervish never left the shop door open, and William Banges could not recall leaving it unclosed either.

Nose pointed down at the floor in confusion, William pushed the door the rest of the way open and examined the hard wood floors. It appeared Richard had done a shoddy job sweeping the night before; a _very_ shoddy job of it. William kept a close eye to his feet to ensure he did not trip and fall over any of the drawers, papers, broken glass, or strewn Sneakoscopes about, as he made his way to the cashier counter.

There was Richard. Asleep, perhaps, but too still for sleep, and lines of ruby blood down the side of his face, stemming from a large cut on his forehead with a large piece of glass still lodged in it. The blood did not appear to be flowing anymore.

William touched Richard's neck to find the life that may yet be beating there, but felt only cold instead. He shook Richard's shoulder, called to him, but the man seemed to be going stiff. Horrified, William tried to flee from the cadaver, but in his turn for the door, his very stubborn large toe caught the edge of one of the fallen index drawers and he toppled forward onto his hands and knees.

William tried to regain himself, but found he was continuously slipping on the strewn papers and broken glass he had watched so carefully on his way in. Frustrated, William began pushing the objects out of the way- clearing a path across the floor as he slipped and slid back out to the sidewalk of High Street and called for whoever could hear him to help, please help. A man has died, for Merlin's sake, and couldn't someone please floo the Ministry at once, as, if there ever was a need for emergency floo, this was it and thank you very much in advance.

Part One

Lieutenant Copper stood on the sidewalk with his wand neatly tucked into his breast pocket, his pocket-sized notebook with hovering Quick-Notes Quill still in hand, sipping at his tea and awaiting the CSI team in the warming morning air along High Street in Hogsmeade. His creased face frowned against the crisp breeze that floated through the air and pushed the glass door behind him into a gentle swing as three loud cracking sounds shook him for only a split second and three of the team's four appeared in front of him.

The blonde, brunette, and redhead looked blank as they surveyed the outside of Dervish and Banges, each mentally calculating what could be in the store.

"It's a real mess in there," started Copper. "The entire place looks completely trashed. Initially, we thought it was a robbery gone bad, but according to a Mr. William Banges over there-" (he pointed the tall-looking, gangly gentleman sitting on the sidewalk with his head between his knees) "-nothing seems to be missing. Of course, we could only get that much from him because the bloody fool refuses to go in with more than his head to look things over. Refuses to step foot in the shop again until, quote 'Richard's murder is avenged or at least politely resolved.' Hey, at least that'll keep him out of your hair.

"Now, Banges says he came to the shop today and found the door already unlocked and open (how many times have we heard that one). He says he found the place a mess, and Richard Dervish was dead in the display cabinet before he got there. Says he tried to flee in panic, but got all kinds of tripped up and fell over, and he's the one responsible for the path cleared through the debris on the floor. You guys are going to have great fun with this."

"Great fun," responded Draco Malfoy in his typical sarcastic tone. The boy had softened and quieted a great deal since the second wizard war, and had since grown his hair out a great deal to where he uncannily resembled his father. He couldn't seem to resist sarcasm still, as it did run in the blood, after all. "I'll see what I can get in crime scene photos to start," he finished almost sincerely.

Hermione and Ron Weasley made to follow their blonde coworker, but their movement was interrupted but another loud crack, and Harry Potter, the lead of the CSI team was there with them.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, "but I had to see a man about a Blast-Ended Skrewt."

"Charming" Hermione smirked back.

"No really. I was seeing their damage versus size ratios to follow up a hunch on that arson case from a few days ago."

The trio walked into the store and found themselves in a big pile of mess. While looking over the damage, Harry remarked its resemblance to the aftermath of a hurricane or tornado.

"Or one of your Blast-Ended Skrewts" Ron offered.

"Don't be silly, Ron. There's no evidence of fire or charring." Hermione retained her old ways of correcting the lad in her brilliantly brazen tone, but now it had grown into something endearing the two shared as part of a sort of routine; he used it with her when talking about Quidditch, and she used it with him when talking about anything else.

"You know," Ron said loudly, changing the subject, "I always thought this place was ridiculously over-priced."

"Yeah?" said Harry. He noted the dead man in the broken display case. "How much do you think they want for him?"

Neville Longbottom popped up from behind the deceased and with an innocent smile replied simply, "ah, probably an arm and a leg. That's just a bit off Coroner's humor there. Now who wants to help me get this guy to the good ol' Doc?"

Wordlessly, Malfoy stepped up and put his camera down on the back counter top to aid in lifting the man out of the case and on to the stretcher. The first attempt failed as, not only was the man in an awkward position, but he was a fair bit heavy set, and dead weight does often seem to be the heaviest of weights. On the second try, he joked, "Shouldn't Weasley be the one shop-lifting?"

"You only say that because I'm ginger." Ron called back, long-cense offended by Malfoy's jokes. The two had developed a platonic relationship around playful insults.

"Well," Malfoy kept the joke going, "that. And, poor."

Once the body had been cleared to the outside street and relocated to the Morgue (much to the wailing of Mr. William Banges), the team worked diligently to collect anything they could that seemed to be relevant. The primary problem was, nothing appeared to be especially related, and instead, all of it seemed to be one big chaotic blunder.

"You know," Hermione called out to no one in particular from behind a mess of some deconstructed machine that looked designed to turn wheels and hiss steam, "there are very few reasons a person would go through this much trouble to make this much mess. One, to make a statement, but really, what statement are you going to make to a quiet, balding man? Two-"

"To hide evidence?" Harry cut her off. "Too bad we're better than that."

"True. However, the third reason –Ron's favorite- is to act as a distraction from some bigger conspiracy. But, what would be so important in a Sneakoscope repair shop that it would need this much distraction and covering up?"

"I'm not sure," helped Ron, "maybe a super special Sneakoscope? Like, one that's all-knowing? And made of gold? And does tiny back flips when it's scoping? 'Cause if it's that, I want one."

The team fell silent in disbelief for a minute.

"Honey, maybe you should run a Spell Sweep of the room and see what was cast before Mr. Dervish died while the rest of us poke behind the counters." Hermione said as gently as she could to Ron, kissing his freckled nose.

Grudgingly, Ron began his task as Hermione, Harry, and Draco began searching the cabinets behind the displays. Harry stopped at a book shelf, and noting one red book, _Mysterious Passageways and How to Repair and Reoperate them_, Harry pulled the book and heard a swish to his right. Looking over, he stared down a dark hallway that was where the piece of wall had been. Hermione found herself at his side then, and the two drew their wands and whispered "Lumos", exposing the dark hall and staircase down into the unknown to the light of their wands.

Together they walked down the undecorated brick wall hallway to the rickety wooden half-staircase at the end, where an enchanted torch sensed their presence an illuminated the hidden storage room and all its shelves, exposing hundreds of tiny colored vials. A table stood in the center of the room, unscathed, and the order of potions on the shelves appeared to be undisrupted. A cage large enough to fit a small child lay dented on the floor next to the table, the hinged door lying open.

Reading the labels on the bottles, Harry hummed to himself, "Polyjuice Potion, Felix Felicis…Hermione, I think we may have found a motive."

Levitating the cage to leave it untouched, but bring it back to the lab, Hermione noted, "Or at least what it was caged in."

"So!" Ron's voice came from the top of the half stair. "My favorite theory was right. There was something of a big fancy something worth covering up with a huge mess in the front of the shop. Not a back-flipping Sneakoscope, but maybe a back-flipping something." He had a unique ability to gloat over his triumphs in a most child-like manner. No one was complaining.

Malfoy took over the cage levitation, seizing control of its route back to the lab for analysis. "We'll see if we can find anything of DNA on this to find what was inside," he confirmed. Hermione walked in Malfoy's wake to ensure the safety of her find, moving past Ron with an approving stroke of his cheek.

When Harry spoke again, it seemed to be to the empty room, though Ron was familiar with the Golden Boy's process and listened to add if he could.

"If Dervish and Banges are running some sort of black market back here, then why these potions?" Harry mused. "It's not as though they're illegal to sell, so why the big cover? What could have been so important in that cage to cause all this?"

"Maybe," Ron chimed, notifying Harry of his presence, "They wanted to over-charge on all this stuff. Think about it. They're not illegal, but they are bloody hard to find, which means that Dervish and Banges could overcharge as they see fit, you could make a fortune at that. Maybe they were overcharging for whatever was in the cage, and someone thought Dervish should be taught a lesson for it but it went too far."

"Yeah." Agreed Harry. "It always seems to go too far."

**Author's Note:** This is the first time I have written anything outside the realm of my University's assignments in several years. As such, any and all reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially those with constructive criticism. Thank you, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope to see you next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**CSI: Hogsmeade Episode 1: But what's in the Back Room?**

**Author:** Lovely Rita Girl

**Summary:** The second installment of this Harry Potter/CSI crossover fic, in which there is trouble at Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade, as Dervish has been rudely murdered over a mysterious and vicious creature that had been hidden in the back room and stolen away in the night.

**Author's Notes:** Chapter two. Thank you to all who read, and I hope you enjoy the second installment. Again, trying to keep everything as canon as I can considering it's a blend of two universes. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Part Two

Doctor Scamander was observing the deceased patient on her autopsy table, giving Mr. Richard Dervish one last look-over to see if there was anything she missed when Neville Longbottom reentered the room from dropping off the report upstairs in the lab.

"You know, I shouldn't have even needed to open him up. It wasn't necessary, what with the wrackspurts still floating about his head" she chimed in her wispy sing-song voice. "Shame it's protocol."

"But what kind of Coroner would you be if you didn't follow protocol, Luna?" He inquired.

"Probably as bad of a Coroner's Assistant you'd be if you didn't remind me of things like the protocol, Neville. I'd ask you to put him back together for me, but we both know Harry's going to want to take a look first."

Longbottom nodded in agreement at that as Doc Scamander folded Mr. Dervish's skin back to his ribs in preparation of presentation. She had already pulled the large (and small) pieces of glass from his head gash and prepared them to be sent upstairs to confirm their origins, and passed the time by sporting her old Spectrespecs to watch the wrackspurts continue to dance away in slow dissipation as she waited for Harry to arrive.

"So what've you got for me today, Loony?" the name still slipped out sometimes when Harry saw her; mostly because she really was _loony_, but the good kind.

"The usual, Harry. Just a dead body waiting to be put to rest." Scamander smiled as she removed her colorful glasses and hopped off her stool to show her work. "This one doesn't have a whole lot wrong on the inside, though. Just some superficial cuts and abrasions on his skin. Really, the only curious bit is the bruising on his neck."

"Is that what killed him then, strangulation?"

"No, it was blunt force trauma to the head. Probably from being dropped on it into a glass display case of course; that is, if Neville's assessment of the scene is accurate; which I have no doubts about." Her assistant grinned at that last bit sheepishly.

"How do you suppose a man gets dropped on his head into a display case, then?"

"Well, Harry, that's supposed to be your job to figure out, I think. I just tell you what killed them, not how it was done. But, if you want my opinion, maybe his Umgubular Slashkilter made him do it."

Harry then shared a significant glance with Longbottom, who shrugged, and added "Right. Well, thank you, Luna. Your brilliance is always appreciated," and walked out as briskly as had come in.

Without being asked, Longbottom proceeded to close Mr. Dervish back up. He maintained a steady, confident, talented hand with wand-a-working to fuse the skin back into perfect alignment. Longbottom's work was seamless and perfect, and showed a great deal of care and respect for the dead. Upon finishing, he said to the corpse, "Now it's back to the fridge with you, Sir. Cold ones all around!"

* * *

Eddie Carmichael sat twittering his thumbs and sighed a great, dramatic sigh that caught the attention and annoyance of Cho Chang, who sat across the counter from him in the lab, still trying to identify any DNA that may have been left in the cage.

"Do you need something, Carmichael?" Her voice was dry and apathetic, making it clear that she didn't care what his answer was. He watched her as she worked from the specially designed dark wooden basin of a pensieve to pull existing strands of magical creature DNA and compare them to the sample strand she pulled from the cage. The basin glowed red with every strand, signifying the lack of a match.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." He enjoyed the grand statement, and was ever bemused with himself for distracting her from her slow work with the pulsating-red enchanted water. "You see, Cho, I've already finished all my testing, so I don't actually need anything else. However, it has left me rather bored."

"You could always start on comparing those glass samples Luna sent up to the glass samples from the display case." She didn't even bother looking at him. Really, she just wasn't interested in listening to him anymore.

"Yeah. I could. 'Could again,' I mean, as you know, I already finished and confirmed the match." She glared at him from over her sample comparisons as he went on, "It's a curse and a blessing, really. Being _this_ good at everything I do. Really, just a curse and a blessing."

"Woe is you. Now could you please stop talking? I am still trying to work, Carmichael."

"You know, you're not going to find a match. We don't have a very good database for the tiny magical creatures, and I think it's safe to assume there wasn't some Witch or Wizard stuffed in there."

"Tiny magical creatures?" Now her interest had genuinely perked, as, she had not considered the size of whatever was caged to be less than that of a gnome. Carmichael obviously reveled in the interest.

"Well, gosh, Cho. Of course they'd be tiny creatures in there. Look at the spacing of the bars. And the size of the dents from the inside. Something bigger would have had to use its teeth to get dents that size, and the spacing's all wrong for biting."

Cho's brow creased. "But what about the big dent on the top?"

"Didn't Malfoy say they found it on the floor next to an empty table? You know, like it fell or something?"

She paused, thinking. Finally she blurted, "You're right. I really hate that you're right, Carmichael."

"Blessing and a curse, Cho. Blessing and a curse."

"Fine. Get over here and help me compare the samples to all the existing tiny magical creature samples so we're at least thorough." She extracted all the current colorful samples from the bowl and placed them back in their proper vial, replacing them with the smaller vial of proper DNA strands.

The two worked together for at least the next hour. She in compact, concentrated movements and he in grand, flourished movements. However, Carmichael's original assessments on the DNA databases for tiny magical creatures had been as accurate as his other assessments, leaving them at a dead end. Still, they had made more progress than when they had started, as the two were able to add the unidentified sample to the vial.

When Hermione arrived to collect the information they had to offer, she found two deflated lab technicians. They ruled that Ron's Spell Sweep came back inconclusive, as the spells cast were for retrieval of files, lie generators to test the Sneakoscopes, and other such "boring" ("They aren't boring, Eddie. They're complicated and intricate spells designed for running a business." "Yeah. Boring") spells you would find in a shop such as Dervish and Banges.

The cage offered little, if any, fresh information, other than the need to compile a larger DNA database; though, the amount of dents inside the cage posed the questions of how vicious the animal or animals inside had to be, and why the thief didn't just take the cage with them.

"What about evidence of people in the back room, then?" Hermione asked the two.

"Nothing outside of Dervish and Banges themselves," answered Carmichael. "Though, if you ask me, I'd say it's probably because Banges did it. Bet he got tired of just keeping the books and wanted the whole place to himself-"

Cho Chang cut him off before he could get further. "Are you sure you weren't a Slytherin? Because you sure think like a Slytherin."

"It was a close call. Listen, Herm, if you need any more help with the case-"

This time, it was Hermione who cut him off, "I won't be asking you."

Cho let out a full-hearted single laugh as Hermione left to go meet with Harry so they could discuss the findings. Carmichael's ego was barely pricked by the insult, and Cho Chang got back to work logging the unidentified DNA.

* * *

Part Three

The grey stone room was cold, not just in temperature, but in feeling as well. One small window looked out on to the sky beyond, though that sky was held behind bars of rusting metal. There was a plain black table in front of Mr. William Banges II that had an eerie reflective quality to it, and behind that, a matching plain black chair, complete with matching eerie reflective quality.

His wand had been taken from him at the front door –for security purposes, we assure you- and he felt rather naked without it, despite bundled in his black wool robe and red stripped scarf. He removed his square wire glasses to rub at his eyes when the door opened.

Lieutenant Copper walked in. He wore the same tattered brown button-up robe he had worn in front of the shop the morning William found Richard dead. Copper pulled out the chair from the table to make an intimidating screeching sound, though the chair had already been far enough from the table's edge to allow a person to sit.

Copper unbuttoned the top wooden toggle of his robe and reached into his breast pocket to remove his notebook and Quick-Notes Quill. He set them down on the table, lay his stout hands folded next to them, and leaned forward over the table.

Silence.

A click sounded then and a bright light came on from above Copper's head that forced William to involuntarily jump. He covered up that jump as smoothly as he could by reaching for his glasses. Once in hand, he moved to put them back on the bridge of his nose.

Silence again.

Lieutenant Copper seemed to be rather fond it.

Finally, he said to William, "Tell me about Richard Dervish."

"Well…" William wasn't sure where to begin. "Richard Dervish II. I didn't know his father too well. He, Richard Dervish _II_ that is, is -was- my business associate. We both inherited the business from our fathers. We have known each other for as long as we each can remember. We even remained the best of friends at Hogwarts, even though he was a year ahead of myself. He favored the color blue. That is, until he met Patti, his wife, then he took to green. Green like the color of her eyes, or so he likes –liked- to say."

"Uh huh. So, according to your financial records, you kept the books and Dervish sold and fixed the machinery. Isn't that right?"

"Well, of course, Sir. Our store functioned brilliantly as such. Why do you ask?"

"You see, Bill," (William cringed at the name) "no where in there do you have a mention of the little operation going on in the back room. I'm starting to think maybe you didn't know about it. Maybe you found out what Dick" (William cringed again) "was up to and got angry. Real angry."

"Well, of course I knew what was in the back room. It was my idea to set the whole potion brewing and selling business up. How dare you propose I didn't know what was going on in my own store! I ought to…ought to…I am very displeased with you, Lieutenant Copper!"

Copper chuckled. "So you admit to running an illegal operation out of the back of your shop and trying to cover it up from my boys?"

"Absolutely not! Nothing in that back storage closet was illegal. Just rare and hard to find. They were the kind of potions we didn't want just anyone to know we were selling, so we'd only let our most trusted customers in on their sale. And we have permits for every vial!"

"And what about whatever was in the cage, then?"

"What cage?"

"The cage in the back, Bill. What was in it?"

"There was a cage in the back?"

"Yes. There was a cage in the back, and the only thing missing from your store was whatever had been in that cage. So, tell me, Bill, what was it?"

"Well, I don't very well know! Perhaps it was something that Richard picked up and had moved into the back that day! Did you check our inventory? Perhaps he listed it on that."

"There was no mention of anything alive on the inventory, Bill."

"Well, Richard never was good at keeping the books. That's why I did it for him. Go ahead, try one of my Sneakoscopes on me and see if I'm lying, Lieutenant."

"Better yet, let's use mine." Harry moved into the room with his Sneakoscope that Ron had given him years earlier and set it on the table in front Mr. Banges.

The little glass top was a lovely version of the sneak-detecting tool. Polished glass that had been well-maintained and a brass covering on the base to spin upon that had faded from well-use.

The little spinning top did nothing.

"There you have it!" Richard said, sitting up fully straight for the first time in the entire interview. "Also, Mr. Potter, I have some wonderful polish I could sell you to get that brass shiny as new again, if you're ever interested. Just twelve galleons a vial!"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Banges, but thank you."

"Yeah, Mr. Banges. We don't need to be sold nothing from the likes of you. I need to ask you, Bill, would you be willing to submit to Veritaserum questioning so we can gather your whereabouts at the time of death?"

"I would, though you'll only find that I was tucking my little ones into bed."

Harry interjected, "I don't think that'll be necessary."

Harry had a knack for knowing in his gut when he had found the right person in any case he dealt with; like a ticking clock in his stomach that would sound the alarm. Mr. Banges did not sound the alarm. No, his clock was as silent as the old Sneakoscope on the reflective table in front of him.

"Damn." Copper muttered under his breath. "I'm rather fond of the Veritaserum."

* * *

It was ten o'clock in the evening and Harry sat on a soft purple couch in front of a warm orange fire in a small green room with a glass of deep red wine in one hand and his wife Ginny under his other arm. He was not drinking the glass of wine of course, as it was Ginny's. She simply could not hold it while leaning against Harry the way she was without tipping it over, and so he held it for her, and she would steal the glass to sip it before handing it back and he would kiss the top of her head lovingly each time she did so.

He was quiet, and so was she. Quiet was the second best place for Harry to think, as it allowed him to hear all of his thoughts. The first best was talking to Ginny, as she forced him to hear only the good ones. And so he sat there in the home they had built for each other and let the silence surround them while Harry got all his thoughts together and Ginny sipped at her Merlot.

An outsider may not know exactly from looking at it, but the two together like this were most likely the most serenely happy couple in the world. Silence was not awkward to either of them, but wholly welcome after all they had been through together. And so, on that couch, the fire created a superficial heat in the room, and Harry and Ginny warmed each other from the heart out.

"Say what's on your mind now." She told him.

Obediently, he answered, "I'm missing something and I know I'm missing something. The animal in the cage is the key, but how do I find it? I looked all over the floor of that room and found nothing. Not even shoe prints of whoever took it. Even the team couldn't find anything else. We're all missing something. I know it."

"Well that's it then. You looked all over the floors, what about the ceiling? Did you check that? Maybe you can't find your answers because you've looked _over_ everything, not _up_ at anything."

He smiled at her. "You always have the answers, Ginny. Maybe I'll go back to the crime scene tomorrow morning and look _up_."

"Not maybe. You will. And you'll take me too. Fresh eyes and all that."

"Yeah, you and Macmillan."

"Really? Ernie? That kid is so annoying."

"Fresh eyes, dear."

"Fine. Freshen up my wine with those eyes, will you dear?"

And so he did, and they went back into the silence of creating their own warmth.


	3. Chapter 3

**CSI: Hogsmeade Episode 1: But what's in the Back Room?**

**Author:** Lovely Rita Girl

**Summary:** The third installment (and thrilling conclusion) of this Harry Potter/CSI crossover fic, in which there is trouble at Dervish and Banges in Hogsmeade, as Dervish has been rudely murdered over a mysterious and vicious creature that had been hidden in the back room and stolen away in the night.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the story alerts! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of this CSI/HP Crossover!

* * *

Part Four

Harry Potter cleared the crime scene line at the front of Dervish and Banges and granted himself, Ginny, and Ernie Macmillan access into the shop. Nothing had changed. The papers had resigned themselves to stillness on the wooden floor, the machines looked to be gathering a small layer of dust, and the door to the back room had closed itself some time after the team had left. Still. Everything was exactly as the team had left it in the first round of evidence collection, but now the movement was on pause. It was quite a chilling sight to behold; it always was.

"Oh man," Ernie broke the reverie, "after the war, I so _totally_ got my wand fixed here."

"Really? They do that here? I thought they just repaired the mechanical things." Ginny questioned the immature CSI with a scrutinizing tone. She was good at training the new recruits because of that very tone. _It gives them a sense of fear_, she would say.

"Well, like, after the war and stuff, they were just fixing everything. Totally the only shop open to fix shit anymore, too. I mean, the Death Eaters totally took down everywhere else all madcap crazy-like. And man, these guys were crazy. So, like, pompous and polite about everything, like, 'Oh yesh, we will fixsh that for you, Shir, give ush just a moment of glorioush time and it SHALL BE REPAIRED.' And they were crazy quick with it too!

"Hey, look! It's the 'What's-It-For Box'. You can put your old things in this drawer here, and a little slip of paper spits out on the other side, here, and it tells you what your thing is for! Here! Give me something! Whatever thing you have on hand! I'll show you!"

"I'm pretty sure I already know what my thing is for, Ernie." Harry's innuendo caused Ginny to laugh a little before lightly tapping his shoulder with her wand in fake disapproval.

"Don't encourage him, you git. The kid's already crazy enough."

"I'm not crazy, Gin. This is just a totally awesome shop. Oh, candy bowl!"

Ernie made to grab a piece of candy from the dish, but Ginny quickly stopped his hand with her own. The glare she gave could have frozen Butterbeer. "This, Ernie, is why we can't take you anywhere. The scene must be preserved. Disturb _nothing_ unless you intend to take it back to the lab. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Yes ma'am," Ernie conceded pitifully, as though a metaphorical tail were now tucked between his legs.

Ginny unhanded him then and got herself to work. Her eyes scanned the middle of the walls, slowly moving upward. Harry, too, began looking up.

"The ceiling," Harry reminded himself out loud, "The ceiling is where we didn't look before."

"Wot'th tho thpethial 'bout the theiling?" Ernie asked with his mouth full of toffee he had produced from his own pocket. "All I thee ith the big tear from the-" (he gave a big, wet gulp) "-chandelier. Dude, what do you s'pose made it tear like that? Like, you'd have to have a lot of weight on it for that to happen. Like, a lot. Like, Dervish himself dancing from it. Get it? 'Cause he's heavy."

"Oh my goodness," Ginny hummed, "the little bugger may be on to something. You see that bit on the arm of the fixture there? Looks like a snag of white cloth, don't you think, Harry?"

"Yeah, it does. Richard Dervish did have a tear on the back of his collar. I didn't think of it before, but I wonder if-"

_Flash!_

Harry and Ginny turned around to see Ernie holding a camera that looked to belong to the store. "Oh hey," he said, "There's totally film in here. But, like, only two pictures left. And some weird little marking-things on the lens. I don't think either Dervish or Banges would have left this out here in this condition, y'know what I mean? Oh, sorry, what were you saying?"

"Merlin's Beard, Macmillan!" Ginny cried. "Get that camera into an evidence bag, grab a ladder, and get a sample of the cloth on the chandelier. Make yourself useful! _Now_, Ernie!"

In a sudden burst of movement, Ernie hastily got to work on his orders.

Harry and Ginny continued to survey the scene. Their heads tilted up, unspeaking, and before too long their hands found each other blindly and held on. Ginny was the first to speak and started the brainstorm process.

"This couldn't have been one person. There's too much damage done for a person to do alone without the aide of magic."

"Let's just say for now that Dervish was hanging on the chandelier. How'd he get up there? Look at how much it's fallen and you still can't reach it from standing on the floor."

"Why weren't all the filing drawers pulled out? There's no apparent order to which ones were, so what was the significance?"

"And what about the picture frames at the top of the wall? How did they get so ripped up without magic? There seemed to be no evidence of a ladder…"

"Why was the cage so dinged up in the back? How was whatever was in it subdued enough to be taken out of the cage without hurting whoever took it?"

Ernie interjected their session with the brilliant addition "you dudes don't even sound like you're talking to each other."

Being that they had been interrupted, the moment was gone and Harry and Ginny dropped their hands from each other and collected the new evidence bags to take back to the lab.

"Thanks for your help, Ernie." Harry told him.

Ginny just ignored Macmillan altogether and walked out quickly.

* * *

Eddie Carmichael and Cho Chang were too excited about their findings to properly bicker. Macmillan brought them symbolic gold when he had returned from his quest out in the field, and now they finally had solid leads to work from. As the clock struck noon, they argued only half-heartedly about how well the current Minister of Magic was or was not doing and Harry entered with Hermione ready to hear what all of the buzz was about.

"You see, Herm," Carmichael gloated, "That little piece of fabric Macmillan brought me, although so small it was very difficult to work with, I happened to use my amazing talents to match it to your dead guy's collar. Now you know he was hanging from the chandelier, and from what I saw on the Coroner's Report, what caused the mysterious bruising."

"That's excellent, Carmichael. Just what we needed. What about you, Cho? Did you find anything?"

"More than you were hoping for," she beamed back. "The marking on the lens of the camera practically looked like hand prints, so I ran them, and although I couldn't find a match, I figured the hands must obviously be very small, possibly even small enough to fit in the cage. And if they were touching the camera, maybe they took a picture and showed who else was in the shop."

"And?" Harry was getting impatient. Lab techs always loved a big build-up.

"And…all the photos were normal posed photographs of Dervish and Banges, except one. It's -well, see for yourself."

Cho handed the two a sepia-toned photograph. Too close to the lens to be in focus, something danced around the little frame rapidly, as though examining the camera. Behind it was the shop, all the fixings and trimmings being torn apart. Though the head of whatever was in the picture was blurry, Hermione couldn't help but think she had seen the shape before.

"Harry, call up Neville."

"Neville? Why?"

"Just do it, Harry."

Harry placed the tip of his wand to his throat and said to no one in the room, "Neville, could you please come up to the lab for a moment?"

Within two minutes the Coroner's Assistant arrived, and Hermione thrust the photograph in front of his face. "What does that look like to you, Neville?" She asked.

"It looks like bad photography, Hermione."

"No, what does the little thing moving look like?"

"Oh. Well, I'd recognize those beady little eyes anywhere. That's one of those little devil Pixies that nearly killed me second year of school."

"I thought so."

"Wait," said Harry, "The Cornish Pixies that Lockhart unleashed at us? They picked you up pretty high, didn't they, Neville? How high do you think they could have lifted you?"

"All the way to the ceiling if they wanted, I suppose. Those buggers were like ants, carrying way more than their weight."

"All the way to the ceiling, Hermione." Harry said to her.

"And then tearing up the books, Harry." She smiled back.

"You suppose they could figure out how open a door, Weasley?"

"Sure thing, Potter. They're clever little pests."

The pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place.

* * *

Part Five

"Thank you for coming in to answer some questions today, Mrs. Dervish." Copper was leaned back in his desk chair as far as it could go. His feet had been resting on his desk until Mrs. Dervish had come walking down the hall, and he liked to make a good impression despite the mess his office had become over the years.

Books and files covered every free inch of desk, shelf, and table top space he had. Old stained coasters rested on top of a few of the piles, and his window looked as though it hadn't been cleaned for years, as it had a film of grime covering it that obscured the view outside.

"Patti." She told him politely. "Call me Patti, Lieutenant Copper. Or may I call you James?"

"Lieutenant Copper. So you've been unreachable these past few days. Must be unfortunate to come back to this kind of news. Tell me, Patti, why would your husband have been smuggling Blue Cornish Pixies and hiding them in the back room of his store?"

"I don't rightly think he was smuggling anything, sir. No he-"

"No? That's odd. He left them out of the inventory, made no mention to his business partner about them. If he wasn't smuggling them, what was he doing?"

"Our youngest daughter turns nine in a little over a week, Lieutenant."

"Oh, well isn't that sad for her? To find out just before her birthday that her father was smuggling pixies."

"He wasn't smuggling them, Copper! She's having a Pixie Tea Party for her birthday. We thought it'd be a nice treat to have pixies flying about the yard. Their delivery was much too early, so Richard was going to keep them in the store until the day of the party so they'd be a surprise.

"You know, Lieutenant, I think you see the worst in people, and when it's not there you still assume it is. I think you'd have more of the answers you need if you would allow people to speak before accusing them of such things. I am a widow now, and I know my deceased husband did no wrong in his life. I could use a little sensitivity, or at the very least, not being berated."

At that, she quickly gathered her coats and stormed from the room.

"Well, lady," Copper said to the empty space, "if you saw everything I have, you'd assume the worst in people too."

* * *

"It's about time you badges showed up to look into those damn pixies! They come flyin' in here first thing yesterday morning, probably smelling the fresh bakes, and eatin' my entire day's worth of prepared sweets."

Madam Rosmerta maintained a gentile, welcoming face despite her harsh tone as she complained to the two CSIs. She had already charmed the bar glasses to clean themselves, and was absent-mindedly wiping down her bar. "Y'see, I sent owl to you lot yesterday morning soon as them blue bugs arrived, so you mind telling me what took ye so long?"

"Well, actually Madam, we're not the cops." Ronald explained. "We're CSIs".

"Then what the bloody hell are you asking me about those pixies for? Seems they only been bugging all my customers that come in, so I keep sending owls up to your offices, and the first you send me aren't people come deal with them? Well, what's the point in having ye here, then?"

"Madam, just tell us when the little buggers first showed, and when they left, okay?" Ernie lacked the tact necessary in dealing with the public, but his boyish charms always seemed to get him excused from his blunt and insensitive tones.

"Well, it's like I said, they show up yesterday morning and eat all my pastries. So, they start getting hyper, and I start giving them a jug of Butterbeer ev'ry couple hours 'til they pass out. Been doing that since just to keep them quiet so as you can come pick them up."

"They're still here, Madam?" Ron jumped at the chance to cut Ernie off.

"Yeah. They's in the back, passed out as ev'r."

"Ernie, get the cage."

* * *

Epilogue

The break room in the Hogsmeade Crime Offices was a dismal attempt at recreating a relaxing home environment. One large yellow kitchen table with four mismatched green chairs stood in the center of the room, while second-hand couches in various shades of brown and grey lined the walls. The walls themselves had once been covered in olive green wallpaper that had since started peeling and turning closer to a shade of puke, while revealing the paneled fake-wood walls beneath the sheets. Eight CSIs sat in the room then, drinking the Butterbeer keg Madam Rosmerta had sent with the boys as thanks for clearing out the pesky pixies.

"After everything we've seen during and since the war, I'm glad that good Mr. Dervish wasn't actually murdered. Well, by a human anyway." Harry offered up the toast from the couch as Ginny threw her legs up on to his lap.

"Strange, really," Carmichael attempted deep thought on the matter, "I could have sworn it was Banges. Just always seems to fit, being killed by your partner in business."

"I'll be sure to keep one eye open when I sleep." Cho announced from across the room. She topped off her Butterbeer and plopped at the table. "Anyway, the beer is good."

Draco savored the flavor of the beer in his mouth before reminding everyone, "I always figured pixies were vile violent little things. Never liked them myself."

"Yeah," said Hermione, "I believe you've never been a fan of anything cute."

"'Cept for maybe Ferrets, Right Malfoy?" Ron flashed his big innocent grin at the blond man, who smiled and rolled his eyes.

"I don't get it.," Ernie slurped at the contents of the cup. "Why ferrets? What? I don't get it."

"And you never will." Draco finished his beer and put the empty glass on the table in front of Cho. "And now, I've got to get home to Astoria. Good night, lads and ladies."

They gave a round of echo of goodnights while the other seven continued with their sweet beer, and Ernie continued to press for answers.

"They're not going to tell you, Macmillan," chided Cho, "it's obviously just one of their things."

"Hey, maybe you should put that in the 'What's-It-For Box'." Ginny helped.

"That reminds me," Ernie started to no one in particular, "what's going to happen to the pixies?"

"They'll be given back to Mrs. Dervish. Then she can do as she will." Harry explained calmly.

"They don't, like, get sent to jail or anything? I mean, they killed someone."

"Well," Hermione offered, "all they did really was carry with their pixie antics. It was the old chandelier that technically killed Dervish. Besides, what are you really expecting to do with a pixie? Send it to Azkaban for the Dementor's kiss?"

Ron laughed at the ridiculous idea. So heartedly, in fact, it became infectious to the rest of the room.

The rest of the evening simmered after that until all of the CSIs went home. Ernie was the last to leave, and as such turned out all the lights and walked the empty hallways to the front door. As he walked past the personal items collection window next to the reception desk, he noted the cage full of pixies still asleep from all their Butterbeer and muttered something to them along the lines of calling them creepy.

One pixie awoke and stared at Ernie with big blank eyes before letting out a sleepy yawn. So sweet and innocent it looked, Ernie couldn't help but respond with saying "so that's how you get away with murder."

He turned out the lights in the front hall and exited the front door into the cold night. The door locked itself behind him, and the moon shone a light for his path back to the Three Broomsticks so Ernie could find his way to more Butterbeer.

Fin.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you, everyone, for reading! Any and all feedback/reviews would be greatly appreciated, as always, and I hope you all enjoyed.


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